


forget the horror here

by sawuhs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawuhs/pseuds/sawuhs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between season 2 and season 3:</p>
<p>One night, Hannibal finds himself wondering about Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget the horror here

He comes like mist creeping into an empty room—slowly, surely, then completely. His arms snake around Hannibal’s waist from behind, his touch light, as if it isn’t there at all. And it isn’t, Hannibal knows, yet it is then that Hannibal puts his chopping knife down, and says with certainty, ‘I have been expecting you, Will.’

‘Have you?’ this ghost, this Will, asks, pressing his cheek against the curve of Hannibal’s shoulder blade.

Hannibal pauses, considering briefly, and as he answers ‘yes’, he feels Will’s lips spreading in a coy smile.

‘But you are not actually here,’ Hannibal adds, resuming his slicing of the leek into sticks. _Blanquette de Veau_ is to be served for dinner, and this ‘veal’ he had caught just earlier today will taste _magnifique_.

Will’s smile fades then, his arms tightening around Hannibal almost chokingly before he pulls away. ‘Just because I am in your head, Hannibal, does not mean this is not real to you,’ Will murmurs.

Hannibal disregards Will, staring at the food he has prepared. His appetite is gone now—a surprising first—and all he thinks of is what a waste this is. He wants to blame Will for this, wants to pick up the phone and call the real Will. But that Will is gone now, though Hannibal isn’t entirely sure despite him purposely missing any vital organs when he lacerated the man; there is a high chance that Will had survived, yet the excessive amount of blood that pooled around Will as Hannibal turned to leave was, and is, the most exquisite and beautiful that Hannibal has ever seen.

‘Doctor Lecter,’ Will calls, and Hannibal feels a hand grabbing him by the shoulder, turning him around. ‘Don’t pretend that this isn’t real.’

‘Even in my hallucinations you refuse to call me by my first name,’ Hannibal tests with a small smile. He wipes his hand on a clean cloth and walks past Will, who seems to uncharacteristically pout. That makes Hannibal wonder what his subconscious is trying to tell him by making Will act so. It can’t be that he wants Will’s attention, no. He has the profiler’s attention, he knows for sure. Submission perhaps? He’ll think about this later.

‘It’s only because your mind doesn’t want to make me up the way you want me to be.’

‘No,’ Hannibal replies. He turns to look Will in the eye, sighing. ‘I am not good at lying to myself when it comes to you, Will, for you did call me by my first name just minutes ago. Besides, even that is not the first time you have called me by such.’

A full-blown smile stretches across Will’s face, his teeth sharp as broken shards of glass that fit perfectly together. Hannibal arches an eyebrow and stares, amused. He wants to open Will’s mouth, wants to reach inside and pull out the words of forgiveness he longs for that Will did not allow him that night.

‘It won’t be the same,’ Will laughs. ‘You know it won’t be the same if _I_ forgave you.’

It’s times like this that Hannibal doesn’t know if he wants to kiss or kill Will, for being so direct and right. Hannibal appreciates that beauty, that bluntness in Will’s words, so there is no doubt that this figment of his imagination should be any different.

‘Of course not,’ Hannibal concedes. The food is all packed up by now, ready to go back into the fridge and to be thrown out in the morning. He knows for a fact that it will not taste as good as it would be if he cooked it now, but the damage is done, and it isn’t like he can’t replicate something like that perfectly.

‘You’ve ruined my appetite, Will,’ Hannibal tuts. ‘However shall I punish you for that?’

‘Punish me?’ the ghost replies. ‘Punish yourself, darling.’

‘You’ve given me a pet name,’ Hannibal points out with a tilt of his head. ‘Interesting.’

Will throws his head back and bursts out laughing, exposing the length of his throat. Just a quick slice with the scalpel, Hannibal thinks, and he could keep Will’s larynx in glass case for his eyes only. Forcing that thought away, Hannibal is all but polite when it says, ‘Please, leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.’

The ghost scatters like dust blown, though not before Hannibal hears a whisper in his ear, ‘You’ll miss me, love.’

That night, Hannibal can’t decide which he is more annoyed at: the fact that those words rings true, that pet names don’t sound right coming from Will’s mouth, or that he likes those pet names more than he should.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned for this to be longer, buuuuuuuuuuuut decided this might be enough.


End file.
